The following diary notes were redacted from an appointment book and e-mail posts … enjoy!

My Aunt Tessie, my mother’s sister, dies on May 16, just a day after what had been her own mother’s birthday.  When did Grandma Rose pass away?

The day after the funeral, I drive to Washington DC for the weekend to have a face to face meeting with George Bartley and stay at a great bed and breakfast in Dupont Circle.

Friday, May 24, I get on an airplane and arrive in L.A. around noon, pick up a Chrysler Sebring convertible rental, and drive to the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood.  That’s right, the hotel that John Belushi said good-bye to the world in!  Talk about room!  We had a huge bedroom/sitting area with full stereo, tv and vcr; a small kitchen (stocked with superb champagnes, wines, edibles, etc); a large walk-in closet, dressing area and bathroom.  And full European service (I had some delicious smoked salmon during the afternoon).

My friend David Littler came by for a drink around 4 to discuss the arrival of His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury (you didn’t have to wait long for that did you?).

Then John de Carlo came by around 7 and the two of us went off to the Fenix at the Argyle for dinner.  The Argyle Hotel is the former St. James’s (sic) Club and the Fenix is a very elegant restaurant on the upper floor with an outdoor terrace overlooking all of downtown Los Angeles.  We went with superb oysters and then swordfish, and I had tuna carpaccio followed by veal with a foie gras sauce!  Can I say romantic, John!

The next morning, we got up to overcast skies.  Oh, oh!  I wanted to go to the beach!  So I did what I so rarely do: I turned my day (and the car keys) over to John.  First off, breakfast at “Who’s on Third” on 3rd Street near the Beverly Center; a fun, little, noisy “joint.”  A couple of stops and we were off to Santa Monica.  But still no sun!  1 pm, we arrive at the beach, still gray, nobody on Ginger Rogers State Beach at all (o.k., Will Rogers, but that’s not what the local boys call it!) and decide to walk down there anyway.

1:05: believe it or not, the sun comes out for the next three hours!!!!!  And it’s the only solid batch of sun all weekend!  Around 4 we go off to John’s friends home to see the new house they’re building over-looking the Santa Monica Pier and the ocean; it’s going to be gorgeous!  Plus, John’s friends are a lot of fun so we decide to join them for dinner later that evening.

Let’s jump ahead to dinner at Bienvenuto on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood — superb Italian food in a very casual setting.  We are joined by another of John’s friends, David Steinberg of Miramax (yes, the movie studio!).

We’re done by midnight and I am ready for sleep because Sunday morning there is a festival Eucharist with the Archbishop of Canterbury at the L.A. Convention Center.  Yes, it’s 10,000 Episcopalians getting together to worship!

I went with David Littler and we picked up his friend Louise Brooks (yes, you’ve seen her name, as a producer of the Love Game among many other things, fascinating woman!) and it’s breakfast at Denny’s (well, Tiffany’s was too far!).

Arrive at the Convention Center at 9:30 and immediately run across my friend and confessor, Fr. Gary Erb, now the rector of St. Clement’s in San Clemente and one of the men most responsible for my church service today (after David, of course!).

This is followed almost immediately by Tony Jewiss+, the chaplain (a/k/a valet and chauffeur!) for Bishop Fred Borsch of Los Angeles.  As I have had dinner with Tony at David’s house, I let my chutzpah take over and ask him to have the Archbishop autograph a small certificate.  I have no idea what to call it; it’s a statement of blessing for our church youth group on a regular sheet of paper that Michael Gow of my church put his Microsoft publisher to work on.  Tony+ will bring it to His Grace during the afternoon and mail it back to me, so my main goal is accomplished.

The day was quite magical.  The fun part was sitting with the parishioners of All Saint’s, Beverly Hills with their rector Carol Anderson right behind me.  As the Archbishop walked past us (to man the communion station neat the rear), he looked down at her and said “Hi, Carol!”  After he passed, she said, “Should I have said ‘Hi, George?’”

It really was a memorable occasion, starting around 10:30 and ending at 1:30.  Afterwards, they set up various rooms for people to get a “nosh” but can you imagine lines of 500 people for a hot dog?!?  I skipped eating, but instead tracked down Bishop Chester Talton, the man who received me into the church.  Truly a man of God, +Chet Talton looks like an African prince in his vestments.

We had the opportunity to speak for awhile (I have his signature in my prayer book) and then I went off, groupie style, to track down the Archbishop.  We had been asked to not ask for an autograph, as 10,000 signatures would cripple anyone!  So I merely asked him to “touch” my book.  Yes, I’m a total idiot and had gone tongue-tied!  After regaining my composure (and with him being so nice), he put his hand on my prayer book (and I, losing it again, covering his hand with mine!) and pronounced a beautiful blessing on it (don’t ask what, my nerves were shot).

Off to lunch with David and Louise at the Pacific Dining Car downtown (where hamburgers go for $17.50, I kid you not) and back for a rest.  At 7, I took David out to the Belvedere Restaurant at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills.  We were not over-dressed in our suits and ties!  Being David’s birthday dinner from me, we went for it.  Beluga caviar, Veuve Cliquot champagne, etc, etc, etc.  You can’t afford if you need to ask, as they say.

Monday morning, John came over and the three of us had brunch and then a tour of Hollywood and Griffith Park, including Madonna’s home and the Hollywood sign.

Around 1, I left for the airport and got on my plane around 3.  And who should be next to me but my old friend Larry Amoros, one of the funniest men on the planet.  He’s got a new gig as head writer for the Rosie O’Donnell show, a new daily “talker” premiering in a couple of week’s.

As he is now living in NYC, we hope to see some more of each other (yes, another “family” member!).  As he was coming back from seeing his boyfriend, who lives in L.A., we had a chance to compare notes about trans-continental relationships.  Tuesday, back to work and life, as we know it.

Another week goes by and I’m in Boston on June 2, being one of two best men for the marriage of Jeff Berlin and Robyne Tanner.  I had suggested to them they get married by a Unitarian Universalist minister and they chose the one from the church near the Boston Common.  The ceremony and reception was held at a bird sanctuary in Belmont with the added treat of many butterflies being released by Robyne after the vows.  Quite the time.

June 26, and Dangerboy and I go to see one of the best rock shows I see in this decade ... Stan Ridgway at the Mercury Lounge in New York City.  Stan is in such a great mood (and with a Lower East Side pick up band) that he even performs Mexican Radio, the famous song he made with Wall of Voodoo and which he had sworn never to perform again, so bored was he with it.  He was funny, he was magical, he passed around a doll in a business suit!

Friday, July 20 - Sunday, July 22 ... the vacation starts off with a retreat with members of my Monday night hiv group at St. Barnabbas.  We stay at the Bay Head, NJ beach house of Roger and Raemali King of King World, distributors of Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy and Oprah, among other shows.

To put the gossip up front, yes, his Rolodex was on the desk, and, yes, Oprah’s phone number (among other celebrities) was there.  Also Robert Shapiro, OJ Simpson’s lawyer (whom Mr. King connected with OJ).  Sorry, I’m not at liberty to give you those numbers!

The Kings were generous enough to lend us their house for the full weekend while they were in Atlanta for the Olympics.  And what a house it was!  Right on the beach (private, of course) with tons of rooms and Bob, the groundskeeper, at our beck and call.  Bob has known Roger since they were kids and has obviously reaped the largesse of their long friendship.  Or, as Bob said, “he was always an idiot and he’s still an idiot” (said affectionately).

By the way, the Kings do not lend their house out in this way; this is the first time they’ve ever had people there who weren’t their friends (although with parties ranging from 100 to 1,000 people, I don’t think 15 of us made a difference!).

They left us a fully stocked kitchen with prepared foods (their chef went with them) and no restrictions whatsoever.  At one point we asked Bob about shutting off the outdoor whirlpool at night to save electricity and he just said “don’t worry about saving in this house” although they do recycle.

In each bedroom there was a humorous “Rules of Camp Bayhead” that they leave for their guests.  All we had to do (as with their friends) was to strip the beds when we left and put the linens with our towels.  The house staff would take care of the rest on Monday (including cleaning up).

As for us, the concept was a weekend of fellowship and growth.  What we didn’t expect was the way that would work out.  We had various workshops relating to coping, journaling and art imagery techniques.  We thought we were the perfect group with no problems with each other.  But 48 hours together provided both extreme highs and extreme lows.  In the end, more growth occurred because of it.

On a lighter note, I attended mass at 8 am on Sunday at All Saint’s Episcopal just two blocks away from the house.  It was built in 1880 and had that small town charm.  Even there, God’s hand was at work.  The day before I had been discussing scripture with the woman leading the art imagery.  We were interrupted by the call to dinner, but her last words were “you know, in Romans 8 ...”  Guess what the second reading was on Sunday?  If you guessed Romans 8 you’d be on the mark.

Then we had a spiritual service at 10 am at the house run by the chaplain of St. Barnabbas Hospital.  I forgot her name, but she’s a Presbyterian minister and this was a directed spiritual exercise with everyone taking a half hour to write on various subjects which we then shared.

By 1 pm, we said good-byes.  I drove home along the coast, via all the small roads, seeing all the beaches and their bathers as I made my way North.  I arrived at Sandy Hook (my normal gay beach) at around 3 pm and had a delightful couple of hours with a lesbian couple (one of whom runs a bed & breakfast in the Methodist town of Ocean Grove) and a cute hairdresser from north Jersey.  Around 6 pm, I went for Mexican food (and, yes, a big margarita) and arrived home around 9 pm.

On July 22, I shift tattoo artists and Steve Ferguson of the Ink Spot in Bound Brook, NJ enhances the previous work and adds the cross on my back.  I’ve yet to truly confirm what type of cross it is but I love it.  Aside from being a childhood friend of my brother’s, Steve is a major Christian so we had a delightful couple of hours discussing the Word and the Way.  What a way to start a three-week vacation!

Thursday, July 25, 1996, it’s a compellably copulatory Coppelia.  Yes, it was another exciting evening with the dizzyingly dizygous Dizzia family.  For those who do not remember, that is my cousin Lorraine (a Vogue editor in the sixties who taught me all about NYC - museums AND Greenwich Village), her husband John (a successful lawyer), and their two daughters (Maria — a future Oscar winner — and Gina — a future Presidential hopeful) who are both currently attending Cornell but spending the summer in NYC.

For those of you from a dysfunctional family, be assured that there is at least one wonderful family in the world.  These folks are so excited to be around one another that you get lifted up off your feet just by being with them!

We start off with dinner at Picholine, about a half block from Lincoln Center.  We are not sure what it means in other Italian dialects, but from our area of Italy it translates out as “little penis” (no kidding).  Nonetheless, the food was exquisite, as it often is.  They change their menu monthly — it is currently featuring a distinct Moroccan and mid-East flavor.

Then it was on to the NY State Theatre at Lincoln Center where we saw the US premiere of the Lyons National Opera Ballet’s avant-garde multi-media production  of Maguy Marin’s version of Coppelia with music by Leo Delibes.  It was approximately one and a half hours with no intermission.

In traditional form, it is the story of a Gepetto-like character, his life size mechanical dolls (of which Coppelia is one) and the lovers Swanilda and Franz, who becomes enraptured of Coppelia (before he finds out it is a doll).

This new version sets the scene on the outskirts of Paris and uses background videos and other effects.  Other than the four principals, there were 24 dancers, half women and half men.  To make a long story short (and to skip the plot entirely!), about two-thirds of the way through the ballet Franz and Swanilda are at Dr. Coppelius’ apartment and are treated to the sight on two dozen Coppelias, all identically dressed in short red outfits and red pumps and big blond wigs.

Here’s the fun part:  hmmmm ... two dozen dancers, half and half.  Where did the other twelve women come from for the other Coppelias?  That’s right!  Like in any good drag show, at the end of the dance the Coppelias throw off their wigs and are revealed to be men and women!

Also to make a long story short, it was one of the best ballets I have ever seen with good production, great music and fine choreography.  And when we walked outside, we were greeted by the sight of tons of people dancing the Macarena at an outdoor festival at the Center!

To be on such a high spiritual plane with such wonderful people is my wish for all of you.  And in case you are wondering, yes, her daughters indeed know how well off they are and how privileged to be a part of all this.

Friday, July 26 ... parents leave at 6 am to go on a cruise-ship tour of Alaska for two weeks, leaving me with the whole house to myself.

Saturday, July 27 ... cousins Patty and Lorraine join me in a drive to cousin Carol’s house in Connecticut.  We sit around and drink mimosas and eat chicken, etc while we bullshit away the afternoon, as old cousins do.

Sunday, July 28, I drive into NYC at night to join friends from Boston, including Jeff Marshall and Alli Wong, Bill and Alice Abbate (with son Zack), Dangerboy and more.  We eat at Luna, an open-air restaurant in the center of Union Square — just great and highly recommended for those in the area.

Monday, July 29 ... back to NYC at night with virtually the same crowd; this time at the Friend of a Farmer on Irving Place, a down-home, comfort-food restaurant.

Tuesday, July 30 - Thursday, August 1 ... ‘nothing, glorious nothing’ is what my appointment book says about this 72 hour period.  I rested and read and did nothing at all.

Thursday night, August 1 ... Cousins night.  I take my second cousin Lorraine and her daughters Gina and Maria to Ahnell’s in SoHo.  Yes, my favorite Italian restaurant in the whole world (and their waiter, Mark, doesn’t detract!).

Friday, August 2 ... finally, a beach day!  The weather over vacation has been terrible, either too abysmally humid or just too over-cast.  But this day is a keeper, virtually half way through vacation!

Saturday, August 3, I meet up with an old friend of David Littler’s, Ralph Taylor, 57, in NYC.  We’ve met before, but this was the first time to do anything together.  He has a house near Atlantic City and is in the restaurant design business.  We have brunch at Martell’s on the Upper East Side and then spend much of the next few hours checking out the art (and the boys) at the Guggenheim Museum.

Around 4 pm, we split up and I go down to SoHo to have drinks with Dangerboy and his friend Lisa (of Don Law’s office), down from Boston.  Saturday night is quiet and peaceful at home.  Quick aside ... obviously, lots of details aren’t here (aren’t you glad?).  There’s the normal church on Sunday morning, plus the gym every other day.  Lunch and dinner was out every day.  Yeah!

Sunday, August 4 ... Dangerboy and Lisa at Ahnell’s.  Yes, another Ahnell’s night.

Monday, August 5 ... ah, finally, another beach day (and of course, all the hairdressers are there!).  At 6:30, it’s time for our hiv meeting at St. Barnabbas and then to Tod’s for late night food.

Tuesday, August 6, a restful day and then back into NYC for dinner with another of David Littler’s friends.  This time, it’s Ted Smith, who, although he doesn’t know Ralph Taylor personally, is also a Fire Island friend of David’s, as well as being a member of St. Luke’s in Manhattan and in charge of e-mail for ConEd.  Also, he’s closer in age to me (44) and spent time in the entertainment business, handling opera divas.  We go tres gay and eat at Food Bar in Chelsea (ok, it’s a ghetto, but it’s MY ghetto!).

Wednesday, August 7 and Dana Wharton arrives at Chez V.  I have been a friend of Dana longer than any other non-relative; we met on my first day of college (although he is two years older than me).  He deserted his wife and three boys to take a couple of days vacation time for himself!  He arrives around 2 pm and we basically hang around, talk, and eat at Theresa’s in Westfield (light, northern Italian).

Thursday, August 8 ... I drag Dana around as I do the last little things I need to do before my parents’ arrival home.  And then around 6 pm, we drive into NYC to eat at — where else? — Ahnell’s!

As for my last three days of vacation, Dana left on Friday morning and I spent about three hours a day at the beach (Friday, Saturday and Sunday).  And on Sunday night, I finished up vacation by going to see Independence Day (alone, everyone else had either seen it or didn’t want to).  Frankly, I think you need to go with people; it was amazingly boring except for the effects.

So much for vacation.  Work today was normal, as if we had never left.  Tomorrow, Dangerboy and I will go see Trainspotting in NYC.  I was on the beach all day on Saturday.  Oh, big surprise, huh?

Sunday, yes, Sunday.  As Craig+ was out of town (delivering his children unto their respective educational institutions) I took advantage of it to go visiting.  I attended services at St. George’s in Maplewood NJ.  If that rings a bell, the rector is one Barry L. Stopfel.  Not yet?  The Bishop Righter trial?

Ah, now the bells are ringing!  Yes, the famous gay rector himself.  You may recall my post of last week, when I mentioned meeting one of the members of the choir (whose lover is a member of the vestry) at the beach.  We had determined this Sunday as a good time to meet, so guess who wasn’t there?  Yep.

Well, the rector was however and gave a very moving sermon on tolerance (not many surprising things in this post are there?).  Actually, the one surprising thing to me was the lack of attendance.  St. George’s has only one service in the summer, at 9 am.  It is Rite Two (both Barry+ and the previous rector refuse to do Rite One as antique and non-inclusive).

Anyway, there were maybe sixty to seventy in the church, if that.  Like many congregations, since the choir has the summer off, they also feel they do not have to attend church!  Guests were asked to introduce themselves after the peace, and as I was the only one, I did so, adding that I am a member of Trinity’s vestry.  After the service we gathered in the garden for pink lemonade and iced tea.

I met a few members of the vestry (three of them are gay, not that that is important, I am just sharing) and finally Rev. Stopfel himself.  My guess is that he is around 50-55.  Absolutely charming.  We had a very agreeable chat for about 15-20 minutes along with other members of the congregation.  But I am not leaving Trinity!

On my way home, I was behind a car with the following bumper sticker.  I found it very moving.  “We kill people who kill people to show people that killing people is wrong.”

I was supposed to have to dinner with Dangerboy in NYC at 6.  However, around 5 he called to say that Steven Tyler (the lead singer for Aerosmith, his bosses) was in town and had decided to make it back to Boston that night to see his daughter.  Guess who had to cancel plans to take care of Steven?

So, plan-less, I have dinner at Steak & Ale with loads of comfort foods (lobster bisque, blackened prime rib and stuffed shrimp, that sort of thing) and then take myself to the new Sony Theaters on Rt. 22 near my house.

Wow, what a multiplex!  Just finished last month, it’s the height of luxury.  So what do I see?  “The Island of Dr. Moreau” with Marlon Brando, Val Kilmer and David Thewlis.  Based on the book by HG Wells.

Terrible huh?  Not at all.  One of the best films I have seen recently.  Highly entertaining, lots of special effects and incredible acting by Marlon Brando.  You do not believe me do you?  It is very and remarkably true.  He really invested himself in this role.  It is just not a mad scientist, but someone who really cares about the human race.  And a very fine moral at the end.

And now the new week begins with another session of tattoo-ing/bible study with Steve Ferguson, one of the country’s best tattoo artists and an inspiring student of the bible.

     “If you want to touch the sky,
     you must be prepared to die.”

 - “Cough Syrup” by the Butthole Surfers from Electric Larryland

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